


a single match can make a fire begin

by glitteration



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Shamelessly Sappy, costarring earp family feels, getting together tropes up the whazoo, happy endings all around, largely s2 compliant until a sharp veer into 'finale what finale' territory, that one where miraculously Everything Is Fine, xavier dolls is a soft angel and we should protect him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-08-27 02:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16693969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteration/pseuds/glitteration
Summary: we are not perfect, we'll learn from our mistakesand as long as it takes i will prove my love to youi am not scared of the elementsi am under-prepared, but i am willingwyndolliday getting together + babyfic, because as far as i'm concerned that's what happened in s3. canon, i don't know her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> like a year ago dani said "sarah, write me some quick wyndolliday babyfic!" and i was like, "i can do that!" 
> 
> the 'if you give me a year or two' was silent, natch.
> 
> aka this was supposed to be done a year ago and short, it is neither. LOVE YOU DANI, IMAGINE A LISA FRANK-IAN BARFED RAINBOW OF APOLOGY HERE.
> 
>  
> 
> also it's been ages since i rewatched the back third of s2 so i might be getting some of the details wrong, forgive me; other than that, this should be largely s2 compliant up until the finale, at which point i'm ignoring everything because nyeah-nyeah, i do what i want. the biggest changes are that wynonna kept alice and rosita didn't pull a last minute doublecross and everyone is _happy_ , goddamnit. (don't even talk to me about s3.)
> 
> oh yeah, and you know. textual threesomes. that's also a change.

Doc takes to fatherhood like a duck to water.

Wynonna likes to think she’s pretty good at the whole mom thing, especially considering… literally every single thing about her and all her life choices up until now, but Doc’s _into_ it.

“How are you not grossed _out_ by this, Doc? Holy shit she’s like, barely ten pounds, how is there that much crap _inside_ her?”

She finally asks him about it after a particularly horrifying diaper incident and he just shrugs, mustache twitching in amusement. “It’s no worse than mucking out a stall.”

“Uh, yeah? You’re just making my point for me, you know that right?”

Doc laughs and grabs a diaper, gesturing for her to beat feet like he doesn’t _mind_ being the one who has to deal with the gross parts of parenting.

So, yeah. Doc is basically Mr. Mom and loving it, and Wynonna is perfectly happy to let him tackle whatever he wants to tackle so long as she still gets final veto—because this kid is an Earp, at the end of the day, and nobody tells an Earp what to do but another Earp.

Doc’s all sunshine and daisies; that’s one down. Dolls, on the other hand… Dolls is complicated.

It’s not like he’s _bad_ with Alice, or disinterested, he’s just… honestly, he seems kind of terrified of her. When he holds her it’s like he’s holding a bomb he loves very much—which has led to some _truly_ hilarious faces, but the weird new adult part of her can’t enjoy them while Dolls is clearly hung up on something.

Okay, can’t entirely enjoy them. They’re great faces, in her defense.

The chance to call him out comes at four-thirty in the morning, because parent time is baby time and baby time is _hot garbage_.

He’s kneeling beside the crib, staring at a slowly blinking, nearly asleep Alice like she’s every painting in every fancy museum and the most amazing thing he’s ever seen, hand clenched on the rail like he has to struggle to keep from reaching out and touching her.

Quietly, Wynona kneels behind him, hooking her chin over his shoulder and keeping the weird, lower-belly ache Dolls not knowing he can go ahead and try to hog Alice like everybody else does out of her voice. “Hey there, soldier boy.”

Dolls stiffens and relaxes in a rush. “Hey. Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, just restless. You wanna hold her?”

“S’alright, I don’t wanna wake her up again.”

“If you say so.” She buries her nose in his neck, inhaling deeply. “Mmm, you smell good. Very dragon-y.”

He laughs, as startled as he always is when she calls him that like it’s the incredibly freaking cool thing it most definitely is. “Still not a dragon, Earp, but... thanks.” He’s way too casual to be anything close to casual when he tacks on, “So. What’s dragon-y smell like, then? Don’t leave me hanging.”

“You’re welcome.” He’s definitely not going to talk about his weird baby hang ups, not now that she’s tripped the alarms he keeps strung up around the delicate parts of his heart, so she just kisses the skin under her mouth. “And… kind of like a campfire a couple hours after you kick out the embers with a little bit of the air after I shoot Peacemaker. Speaking of, wanna bone?”

“Talking about your gun makes you want to have sex. Mature. _Healthy_.” She has to struggle not to cackle when he turns and sweeps her up in his arms. “Hell yeah, I do.”

 

* * *

 

Strange as it may seem, it’s Rosita who gives her the first real push. 

Things have been a little tense since Doc moved in to play platonic threesome and ended up leaving his girlfriend behind along with the box of shit Rosita rage-burned once he realized forgot it and asked her to ferry it over to the ranch for him.

As much as Doc is her… whatever, Wynona’s on Rosita’s side there, and only partially because it’s hard to hold much of anything against a woman who helped pull a baby out of your body. Asking a recently dumped woman to play delivery service is rude; asking her to do it for free is just _stupid_.

And hey, a good post-breakup rage bonfire never hurt anybody who stayed just sober enough to remember fire hurts like a bitch when you get too close.

“Wynonna. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Rosita smiles, but Wynonna knows cagey ex-girlfriend eyes like the back of her hand. In the bad old days she would have given her just as good back for principle’s sake, but lately she’s finding it’s kind of important to not just let people make up their own minds and flip them the double bird when it doesn’t break her way.

Some people, at least. Not the assholes. They can still go fuck themselves. The worth caring about, Rosita-type people are proving worth the effort, though.

So she ignores the tense vibe and smiles back, shrugging and fluttering her lashes a little like she’s the most harmless thing in the bar. Rosita snorts, but when her face relaxes enough to smile back for real Wynonna feels a warm rush of satisfaction break through her lingering nerves. “Booze, shockingly not on the nursing mom diet. Speaking of, iced tea?”

“You got it.” Rosita grabs the soda hose and fills up a glass, sliding it her way. “You need something else?”

“It’s been like three weeks since I put on actual pants, and I’m about to murder somebody. I haven’t seen anybody new in so long I’m pretty sure you’re the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Talk to me, please, I’m begging you. I need contact with the outside world again.”

It really does help when the honest answer is also the disarming one.

Rosita laughs, the rest of her wariness sliding away. “Well, we do what we can.” She pauses, grabbing a rag and polishing the bar as if she doesn’t care what Wynonna says next. “How’s Doc?”

“Good. Freakishly pleased by changing diapers, but good.” The tea is too sweet. She takes a long sip anyway, suddenly parched. “Not to make it extra awkward, but… he misses you.”

“He misses getting laid,” Rosita corrects, but there’s a wistful shadow in her eyes even as she gives Wynonna a grateful smile. “We had fun together, sure. It was always a temporary thing, though.”

“Why’s that?” Wynonna can’t help asking, against her better instincts.

Rosita shrugs, time for confidences clearly over. “That’s something you’d have to get him to explain, not me. You want some pretzels, or something?”

“Please.”

Once she’s grabbed Wynona a bowl, Rosita perches herself up on the bar, one leg swinging freely. “So, how’s everything else?”

 _Well_. There’s an opportunity if she’s ever seen one.

“Actually, about that. You got a second to give me some advice?”

“That’s half the gig. What’s wrong?”

“You won’t mention this to anybody?”

Rosita holds up her right hand, fingers up and pinkie held down by her thumb. “Bartender Scout’s Honor. Nothing you say leaves this sacred circle.”

It’s one of the marks of how weird her life is ever since she rolled back into town that a demon’s idea of sacred being trustworthy barely pings her weird crap radar. “Works for me. And it’s not… wrong, so much, just…” She sighs. “I think Dolls is scared of babies? Or the worse option, he’s scared Alice in particular, but either way it’s starting to worry me.”

“Okay, just because I feel like I should ask… have you tried asking Dolls about this yet?” Wynonna slants her a look and Rosita laughs. “Well, that’s a loud and clear ‘no’. Look, the answer is he probably _is_.”

“Why?” The idea of finally finding a thing beyond Dolls’ ken sits wrong, especially if that thing isn’t as big as an overfed cat and can’t even summon up words yet.

“Weren’t you freaked out about being a mom?”

“Yeah, but that’s different. Earps are genetically pre-disposed to shitty parenting. I was fighting the tide of family history, _and_ I’m me. Dolls is not exactly a perpetual screwup.”

“ _Is_ it different?”

“What does _that_ mean?” Wynonna crunches down on a pretzel, wishing Rosita would just come out and say whatever it is she’s hoping Wynonna will figure out on her own. “I’m not good at this stuff when I’m not dead tired, so maybe just spit it out? Pretend I said that nicer, but… also, spit it out.”

Like it should be obvious, Rosita says slowly, “I _mean_ , Dolls doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy with great parental examples to draw from, either.”

Dolls’ past is a metaphorical minefield guarded by a _literal dragon_ , but among the gems she’s managed to pry from his hands are things that don’t imply he got a lot of active parenting once Black Badge got their hooks into him.

“Okay, so he’s not working from a point of personal experience. Still, have you _met_ that guy? He’s an expert in the weirdest stuff. He can field strip an M-whatever and do shirtless one-armed push-ups at the same time. ...hang on, because _wow_ is that a picture.” Rosita tactfully gives her a moment to imagine Dolls doing just that. “Anyway, he’s ...go get ‘em, super confident man. I don’t get it, why’s he weird about this?”

“ _Wynonna_.” Rosita shakes her head. “It took him _how_ long to admit he was into you?”

The ‘you _dope_ ’ undertone is a real high school moment. Wynonna takes a long, annoyingly loud slurp of tea in petty revenge. “Didn’t you just show up like, a year ago? How would you know?”

“People talk.”

“Waverly.” That’s the only explanation, because there is _no way_ other people knew about where things were going with Dolls before Wynonna managed to put it together herself. “Waverly talks, you mean.”

“She does, but believe it or not you and Dolls weren’t exactly a shock to anybody when you finally went for it.”

“How?” Wynonna whines plaintively. “I mean, okay, maybe Waves could tell, but… other people?”

“Just the ones with eyes.” Rosita shakes her head. “You have to have noticed the way he looks at you.”

There’s an extra note to her voice that means something else, something not about Dolls; something she should probably put some effort into figuring out, but another layer of mystery is one too many for the fucked up metaphorical bean dip that is her life, now.

“He thought I was hot.” Maybe if she pretends her heart isn’t doing clumsy flips like a little kid with delusions of Cirque du Soleil, it’ll stop on its own. “He’s got eyes, too.”

“He moved into your house to help you raise your kid before you were even together.”

“He was making sure I had backup if anything supernatural went down,” Wynonna counters, sweat gathering at the nape of her neck. “Is it hot in here, or is it just this wildly unfun conversation I now wish I never started?”

Rosita ignores the jab. “Or, hear me out: he was taking any chance to be near you more often.”

“And why would he do that? Just because he likes looking at me with a nice bra on doesn’t mean he wants to look at me pre-coffee or puking my guts out.”

“Yes, he does.”

“Does not.”

“ _Wynonna_ ,” Rosita says, exasperated.

“ _What_?” she shoots back, matching her tone.

“Shut up for a second and listen to me. It’s pretty obvious Dolls wants to look at you all the time.” She heads Wynonna’s building _nuh-uh_ off at the pass by breaking her brain, until there’s nothing left but one of those blue ‘good job, idiot, call Waverly before you break it worse’ laptop screens to process her words. “He’s in love with you.”

“...Shit.” Wynonna blinks, opens her mouth, and shuts it again. “ _Shit_.”

Rosita pats her hand. “You want the pretzels to go?”

What she _wants_ is to feel less like Rosita’s just very kindly shoved her over the edge of a cliff, road runner style. Her pretzels are tainted and she can keep them.

…on the other hand.

“Yeah, gimme a baggie.”

Tainted or not food is free food, and they’re pretty good pretzels.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO LATE god, I miss regular news cycles. Sorry for the massive delay! 
> 
> To Dani: ilu more than oysters. TELEPORTATION, GONNA HAPPEN.

Once she’s in the car, Wynonna’s flight response clicks into a way less convenient urge to freeze and freak the _fuck out_. It’s valid panic: Rosita lit a fuse and now Wynonna has zero idea how to stamp the damn thing out before it hits powder and goes boom in a spectacular fashion.

Even more terrifying, she’s not sure she _wants_ to stop it.

In the grand tradition of Earps since time began, she puts less than zero planning or prep into what she should do about Dolls now that she knows how he feels. She doesn’t make the choice to go home, and she most certainly doesn’t remember deciding she wants to tackle yet more potentially brain melting conversations in the span of one afternoon.

She just… does it. One second she’s in the car, stress-munching on Rosita’s in hindsight definitely a trap pretzels and then _blammo_ , just like a real life jump cut she’s in the kitchen.

“Heya, Earp.” Dolls tips his chin in greeting. “Real world as fun as you remember?”

The details of what she’s seeing come in blips, like old polaroid pictures rained down on top of each other, one by one by one: Dolls sprawled in a chair, Alice tucked in one strong arm, the way her little feet move, his indulgent smile. They stitch together into a whole and the ground snatches itself up from underneath her, tilting the world every which way.

 _Oh_. Oh, wow. Wow.

Wynonna nods belatedly, struck dumb.

“Yeah. I mean, no. Not… yeah. Yeah,” she says again, also belatedly wishing she had thought to stick around and ask Rosita what to _do_ with this information now that she has it.

“So… yes fun, no fun… I know I’m pretty tired, but that’s not scanning no matter how I look at it. Sorry, but you’re gonna have to clear that one up for me just a little bit.” Dolls has away of making fun of her without making fun of _her_. She’d never noticed it before, but apparently it’s a day for banner revelations.

“It was good, but I still can’t have any booze, so…” She trails off, distracted by way he clucks his tongue and gives Alice a mock-scandalized look. He looks so comfortable in her kitchen, wearing ratty sweats and holding her kid and smiling with the kind of mischief she thought maybe he was physically incapable of summoning up without the fun police coming to take him away for violation of the tightass code.

In the bar, ‘ _Dolls is in love with you_ ’ meant all the things that could go wrong. Now, staring at the frayed cuffs of his sweatpants and his bare feet and the way he holds her daughter it means all the things that can go right, too.

He shifts under her stare, smile dropping away. “Doc had to step out, and she was hungry. You want her?” He shifts, ready to hand her Alice, and the reluctance to let her go set against how easily he’ll do it if that’s what Wynonna says she wants from him is so obvious her last reservation plunks face-first over the cliff with her.

“Dolls. Do you love me?”

He bolts upright, resettling Alice in the crook of his elbow when she fusses with a distracted ease that makes her want to heave her guts out approximately sixteen percent less. “Wow, that’s… that’s certainly a question.” He coughs, stalling for time like he’s got a buddy out back with a getaway car. “Where’d that come from?”

“Dolls, quit poking at why I asked and just answer it.” When the thought that maybe Rosita had gotten this all wrong threatens to seal her throat she forces it down, taking one shaky step towards him. “Do you love me?”

The moment hangs and spins and threatens to shatter until Dolls swallows hard and looks down at Alice, chewing on his inner lip. Then he stops, looks up at her, and Wynonna feels his answer like the air before a storm.

“Yes,” he says, simple as that, and… it is. Somehow.

She revels in it until Dolls shifts, clearing his throat. “Is… I mean, are you okay with that?”

“...uh, _yeah_.” He makes a little _well then, what are you waiting for_ face Wynonna jumps at the reminder that she hasn’t said it yet herself. “Oh, duh. Right. I love you too. Sorry, it’s just… this is kind of a whole new thing for me.” He smiles, but the wait made him nervous. It’s the angle of his mouth or his shoulders or _something_ , but that’s not his ‘I’m not worried’ smile. “No, don’t do that. Don’t make the ‘you’re just saying that, Wynonna’ face. New doesn’t mean bad, or not what I want, it’s just… Look. Dolls. I _love you_. Do you believe me?”

“I…” He stops. “I’ve got a ‘you’re just saying that’ face?”

“You’ve got like sixteen of them, and those are just the me-specific ones. Not the _point_ , Dolls.” With a little oof she kneels down in front of him, grabbing his hand in hers when he flails out to try and keep her upright. “Do you?”

“Earp, you just had a baby. Would you _please_ get up—”

“No. Dolls, I love you.” She squeezes his hand harder. “Tell me you believe me.”

“I believe you.” He shakes his head, blinking hard and staring down at her with an expression she doesn’t have a classification for yet. “I swear to god, Wynonna, I do. But would you get up before I have a heart attack?”

“I can do that.” Getting up and into the chair next to Dolls is only a minor struggle. “Okay maybe the kneeling was overkill.”

“You think?”

“Shut up. You love my overkill.” Buzzed on the thought of it, she says, “You love _me_.”

“I do, yeah.” His smile is soft, and when Alice wiggles in his arms demanding her fair share of the attention it encompasses them both. “Both of you.”

“Once she learns object permanence, she’s going to love you too.”

Dolls snorts. “I got time to wait.” He pauses. “Hate to ruin the glow, but what does this mean for us?”

“It means, you’re stuck being her only parent who stands a chance of teaching her how to follow laws instead of breaking them… _gently_ ,” she adds when he makes a face, and kicks him in the ankle. “So from now on, you’re going to stop being so weird and hog her when you want, just like everybody else does. She’s mine, but she’s yours too.” Dolls’ face is blank, and Wynonna curses internally. Love isn’t necessarily ‘raise this kid with me forever’. _Shit_. “I mean, if you want.”

“If I _want_ …?” Dolls closes his mouth, looking mystified. “You really have to ask?”

Just a tad defensively, Wynonna crosses her arms over her chest. “I mean, I went to Rosita to try and figure this out, so… yes, apparently. Look, are you in or not?”

He hums softly, a thoughtful little purr of sound deep in his chest like he’s slotting in a puzzle piece. “I thought you seemed a little more driven than needing a couple hours out would look like on you.” He laughs when she makes her own face at Dolls’ return catalogue of _her_ faces. “Now I gotta know. What’d Rosita say?”

“That she moved in because you wanted to be near me. Even when I’m puking—which is dumb, because that’s not something anybody wants. I don’t want to be around that, and I’m me.”

“Earp…” he heaves a shaky breath, eyes a little unfocused, like a man who just took a solid hit to the jaw. “ _Wynonna_. You make me crazy, I swear to god. You don’t have any idea—I mean, before I came here...” He breaks off, laughing again, and buries his face in her hair. “I want it all, Wynonna. As long as it’s you, whatever that it happens to be… I’m in. As long as I get to be with you, it’s always going to be a yes.”

“Even when I’m puking?” The wet catch in her voice cracks the last word in two distinct pieces.

Dolls nods, face solemn as his eyes go bright. “Even when you’re puking.”

It’s not really possible to make out on two kitchen chairs with a baby squashed between them, but the delicate press of Dolls’ lips to her own is better. Wynonna closes her eyes and savors it, until a clattering sound in the doorway breaks the moment.

Doc clears his throat, attempt to back away unseen sabotaged by an industrial size box of diapers. “...Wynonna. Dolls. My apologies, I did not intend to interrupt a private moment. I only came to relieve the deputy marshal of his burden.” He smiles, fake as a dollar store flamingo. “But I see perhaps my timing has been less than opportune. I’ll see myself back upstairs.”

 _So if you two want to continue macking like pre-teens at the table we all share, you can_ , he doesn’t say, but it’s all in the subtext of his awkward shuffle and overly broad gesture to the stairs.

“Hey, Doc.” Wynonna exhales, slowly. “Don’t worry about it, mood’s officially broke. The kitchen’s a communal space, anyway, and I can’t get on Waverly’s back about PDA anymore if I’m doing the same thing.”

Dolls inhales, and she stifles the urge to groan. This is usually the moment where the guy she’s dating pours on the testosterone and reminds her why she embraces the hit it and quit it lifestyle. She winces a little, waiting for whatever male bullshit is about to follow.

“She’s right, Doc. ‘s just good manners.” Dolls rubs his thumb over the inside of her wrist where Doc can’t see it, a promise for later. “You get everything you needed at the store?” He stands and greets Doc, offering Alice over without any hint the dynamic in the house underwent a giant change in the few hours he was out or that they’re now officially the baby daddy and the serious boyfriend, living under one roof.

How her life got weirder post-family curse reveal, Wynonna will never know.

Because she now lives in bizarro world, Doc relaxes as Dolls gets closer. He looks downright _friendly_ , and as far as Wynonna can tell his nod of gratitude when Dolls puts Alice in his arms is nothing but sincere.

“Hello, my little darling. Were you good while I was gone?” he coos at her, and Dolls laughs.

“As gold. Is she ever anything else?”

Dolls brushes a hand over her soft little head and Doc shifts closer to give him better access, shoulder brushing Dolls’ own. They look…

They look _comfortable_. Wynonna had known they weren’t bumping chests anymore, but this is something other than civil, something that makes her chest go funky, all warm and tight and satisfied and to her horror, she can feel happy tears prick behind her lids.

Post-pregnancy emotions, such a fucking bitch on good ol’ hardass facade.

Blinking away the threatening moisture, Wynonna shakes her head. “Oh my god. Between the two of you, this kid is going to grow up into a spoiled monster. How am I the tough one? Let’s make Waverly the tough one, instead.” She moves to snatch Alice back, arm brushing them both in the process. She stills, then Doc stills, then Dolls, until they’re all standing in a quiet semi-circle with Alice acting as the nexus between them; not quite touching, not quite moving away.

It’s weird, and it’s good, and it’s both not enough and way too much to process right now.

“‘Kay, well. This has been fun, but I gotta pee.” Retreat isn’t _always_ cowardice, she tells herself, taking the stairs fast enough Alice blinks in sleepy bemusement. “Sorry, kiddo, mom’s just… thoroughly complicating her already pretty fucked up life.” She looks down at the soft little defenseless bundle in her arms and the tears threaten again. Someday her baby girl is going to be an adult, with all the heartaches and complications that come along with, and Wynonna won’t be able to cradle her like this and shield her from them. Maybe the Earp shitty parenting gene isn’t quite as deep-rooted as she thought, because if daddy ever looked at them and felt this way he sure as hell never showed it. “I love you a whole stupid lot, so do me a favor: take your time growing up, okay? Believe me, it’s all the same confusing stuff, just with more bills to pay.” Below her, a low hum of conversation starts again, Doc’s low burr and Dolls’ deeper rumble melding together to form an indistinguishable song she’s come to know by heart without realizing the melody existed at all. “Some of it… I guess some of it’s not so bad, though.”

 

* * *

 

Of course, now that things are settled with Dolls, things with Doc get weird. Between the two of them, Dolls is the champion brooder. The man can stew like nobody's business, chewing on problems for ages, turning them this way and that until he knows all their little dark corners. Doc is more like her. He’s a burner with two settings: high and low, calm or boiling over.

Right about now he’s at a solid simmer, and the longer it goes on the more Wynonna wants to crawl out of her skin.

He spends a lot of time staring. Staring at Dolls, at her, and Alice, and her _and_ Alice, at all three of them, and then always, inevitably, back to Dolls.

It’s not invasive, and he never does it openly enough she can call him out on it, but whenever she turns her head these days it seems like Doc’s gaze is just sliding away and he always manages to subtly manipulate the flow of traffic in the house so they’re not alone together.

Even weirder, he’s not avoiding _Dolls,_ oh no _._  He and Dolls continue their weird little bromance unabated. It's just Wynonna who seems to have cooties now, and he’s so good at his juggling act that she doesn’t know how to ambush him and ask him about it without sounding like a complete crazy person. It’s kind of of _making_ her crazy, but no way in hell is she going to Rosita about this one. That’s not fair to anybody involved.

Thank god Waverly notices, too, because she’s started considering googling “how to dig a pit and trap a stubborn asshole with a stupid mustache inside it until he explains himself” and calling it a day. It's a solid _enough_  plan.

Probably.

Maybe.

Look, it was better than _nothing_.

“So,” Waverly says about a month deep into his new obsession with imitating Houdini, playing with Alice’s little toes until she gurgles in happiness, “Doc’s been kinda weird lately, huh?”

Wynonna sighs in relief, deep and expressive. “ _So_ weird,” she confirms, picking at her nachos. “I thought he knew Dolls and I were, like… kind of together-ish already, but ever since he moved into my room for real it’s been like he’s gained this whole new level of evasive bullshit. It sucks, and I can’t figure it out.”

Waverly hums a little, like maybe she knows what the hell his problem is, but when Wynnona demands an answer she just shrugs and steals one of her nachos, instead. “You’re going to have to talk to Doc about that, I think.” Popping the nacho in her mouth, she pauses mid-chew and says around the mouthful, “Why are your nachos soggy?”

“Microwaved 'em.”

“ _Wynonna_. You know how to turn on our oven, I’ve seen you do it.”

“What?” She shrugs and eats one herself. “They taste fine, and I didn’t want nachos when that ancient piece of crap was done heating up. I wanted them now.”

“ _Gross_ ,” Waverly declares, then eats another one. “So, anyway: back to Doc and how you should probably talk to him.”

Wynonna makes an outraged sound at the snack theft and pulls the plate closer. “My gross chips, not yours. And I’ve been _trying_ , okay? For ages. He vanishes in a puff of smoke the second somebody else is in the room, so I can’t pin him down and make him talk about it.” Waverly makes a choked sound. “What?”

“It’s just…” she presses her lips together, eyes amused. “You know. You, wanting to talk something emotionally difficult out.”

“Shut up.”

“No, it’s good! It’s also just… kind of funny, when I hear it coming from your mouth.” Wynonna squawks in offense and Waverly laughs, shaking her head. “It’s not a complaint! Just…” Her lips twitch. “A massive surprise.”

“You’re the _worst_ ,” Wynonna tries to stop her own smile but it bursts free, and she gives up the fight. “The absolute worst.” She hipchecks Waverly, gently, and doesn’t fight it when Waverly turns the reprimand into a hug. “So, any advice?”

“Follow those new talking about it even when it feels sucky instincts.” She pauses and adds delicately, “And maybe… be a little gentle with him?”

“Gentle,” Wynonna scoffs, leaning into Waverly’s embrace. “I don’t do gentle. I’m bad at it.”

“Are not, not when you feel like it. And you did it for me. Do it, honestly. And for Alice.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” she insists, tightening her arms around Wynonna’s middle. “You’re kind of great at this mom category stuff, deal with it.”

“Gross,” Wynonna sniffs judgmentally and kisses the crown of Waverly’s head. “Slight subject change: do you know the best way to dig a pit?”

 

* * *

 

It turns out she doesn’t need the pit, after all, because Doc’s the one who lays a trap for her. Four days later she comes downstairs from feeding Alice to find Doc settled on the sofa, hat laid carefully on his knees.

“Wynonna.” He nods a greeting, uncharacteristically rigid. “If you’d spare me a moment…”

Unease crawls up her spine, but Wynonna nods and tries to pretend sitting next to him doesn’t feel like shark diving without one of those cages; exhilarating with a side of potentially being eaten alive by something with big sharp teeth. “Of course. What’s up, Doc?”

“Oh, a great many things. I take it it has not gone unnoticed that I have been… somewhat otherwise occupied, these last few weeks?”

“Ya think?”

He flushes lightly, itching at the back of his neck in a rare show of discomfort, stiltedly formal. “I apologize if I caused any offense, but I suppose I needed… to reflect upon certain issues, of late, and I believe I have finally come to my answers.” “Chief among them that I ought to be the bigger man, just this once.” The smile he attempts falls pancake flat. “I suppose at least I can take the opportunity to see if it suits me.”

“Okay, what does _that_ mean?”

“It means…” He inhales, squaring his shoulders, and her own heartbeat starts to gallop. “It means, Wynonna, that should you want me to leave, I won’t make the process difficult for any of the involved parties. That is to say, to me, your happiness… it is… you are...”

He starts to flounder, and Wynonna throws him a lifeline. “I’m gonna stop you right there. Why would I want you to leave? Why would _any_ of us want you to leave?” She’s surprised to find hurt underlying her shock, because she’d thought Doc was better than this. That he wasn’t going to cut and run yet again, not with Alice in the mix too.

“It has not escaped my notice that you and the deputy are… more involved than you were previously.”

“Yeah, and? Is this some kind of weird reverse slut shaming?” A weird droning sound fills her ears as she realizes he’s practiced. He’s _practiced_ this, which means whatever he’s about to say is important enough he wanted to have a script. It smashes her heart with a hammer at the same time it makes her break out in a cold sweat. “You knew I was sleeping with him when you both moved in.”

“I did.” He fidgets with his hat, shaping and reshaping the creases along the top. “And I didn’t care then nor do I care now. Your nights are your own, I would never attempt to...” He stops, clears his throat, and visibly collects himself. “What I meant to say is, that as long as you two were solely keeping time, I might continue to hold out hope.”

“Hope…” The train that smacked her in the face with Dolls looms behind her, and in a moment of helpless, instinctive panic she thinks, _here it comes_. “Hope what, exactly?”

Doc smiles, a grim little slash of his mouth that leaves his eyes winter skyline bleak. “I suppose I had hoped that someday, you might feel the way I do. And not about Deputy Marshall Dolls.”

“...but you never said.” She gapes at him as the train once again squashes her flat. “I didn’t know.”

“My dear Wynonna, a man will say or not say a great many things when his pride is on the line.” He laughs wryly, but it’s not a joke she’s invited to share. “And a great deal more when his heart’s in the pot alongside it.”

“Doc…”

“It’s all right, Wynonna. The deputy marshall—Dolls,” he corrects himself, “ _Dolls_ is a good man, for all I cannot claim to care for his more priggish tendencies. He’ll do his best to take care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of,” she protests by rote, mind still stalling out somewhere back around _what the actual fuck, how did this happen_ junction. “I can handle my shit just fine on my own.”

“Wynonna, my darling, that is precisely the point.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” But it’s also not at all worth arguing about given the scope of the clusterfuck of pent-up weirdness they’re currently up to their necks in. “Look, Doc…”

“Wynonna, it’s _all right_. There’s nothing you need to explain, you made me no promises.” He hesitates. “I would ask, though…” he swallows hard and finishes in a rush, “I would ask that I still be allowed to see Alice. I won’t interfere in anything you choose to do, I swear. She is your daughter, Wynonna, I know that, but…” his voice thickens. “She’s mine, as well.”

Naked love shines in his eyes, raw enough to slice them both to ribbons and the hammered bits of her heart re-smash themselves into smaller, infinitely more painful pieces.

“No!” The word bursts from her chest, and the way Doc flinches back with a dead-eyed nod makes her want to crawl under the carpet and die just a little bit. “No, not… no you can’t see Alice, no you don’t need to ask to see her because no you don’t need to go.” She takes a deep breath, bracing herself. “Look, it’s… so. How to say this thing, this… very complicated, extra tangled, definitely not something I feel super secure about myself, thing.”

He stops her, dashing at his eyes with the back of one hand. “I don’t require an explanation, Wynonna, I’m simply grateful—”

“ _Doc_.” He doesn’t quite look at her, but he does stop protesting. “If you can do the brave thing, I can do the brave thing.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I _want_ to,” she counters, and it’s miraculously the truth. “Look, it’s not like you’re just dangling out in the wind, here. I love Dolls—” he flinches and she hurries on, “But I do… feel things for you. Big, overwhelming… intense heart feelings things. Things that are more complicated than I like to deal with unless somebody’s making me do it, which isn’t… this situation, but what the hell I’m doing it anyway, right? Let’s hear it for personal growth.” _Oof_. She exhales and steers back onto course, “What I’m trying to say, incredibly awkwardly, is… it’s not like I don’t care about you.”

“But you love him,” Doc says, eyes sad.

She nods, even as it takes the twice-pulverized pieces of her heart and sends them through one last thoroughly stomping. “I do. And I know that makes things with us complicated and weird with us in a way we kind of can’t avoid, and I totally understand if you need to not be here, but…” The idea of Doc leaving puts a lump in her throat. “I don’t want you to go,” she says finally, eyes trained on her knees. “Please, Doc. I know it’s selfish, but... please?”

“Do you mean that?” Doc seizes her hand, clasping it between his own. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, darling. I’d stand just about anything if you asked it of me, but I’ve got to beg you for that mercy.”

The lump traitorously expands in size, and Wynonna knows her smile is watery. “Unless you want to leave, I want you to stay. In which case I’d still want you to stay, I’d just… you know, want you to be happy slightly more.” Very, _very_ slightly, she has to privately admit, but enough to put her over the not a completely shitty person anymore top.

Doc’s own eyes shine with the things they still haven’t settled, but his smile is genuine. “Then stay I shall.”


End file.
